Marsha In the Backseat

Being in a relationship with me means hearing these words every few months, "get your ass in the back seat, get your clothes off, and don't speak unless you are spoken to", and then once nude, "start without me." It's always playful; the first time I did it I wasn't playing, I was irritated.

Her name was Marsha, we had been dating in a D/s-in-the-bedroom relationship for over two years and we had just broken up. We were young and stupid and our relationship was full of drama with plenty of public displays of both passionate affection and heated disagreement. We were having regular broken-up sex at this point, which we would fuck and then ten minutes later be mad and all the other trappings of silly, young-adult relationships.

During this broken-up-but-still-fucking period she decided to go to my house and destroy my Latoya Jackson Playboy issue (ironically, Marsha was built somewhat like Latoya). I rarely bought nudie magazines, Latoya was only the second one ever. I was furious. At the time Marsha moved in with a relative of her adoptive parents about 20 minutes away; that day she got a ride into Pasadena (where I lived) from her friend, she went to my place when I wasn't there, went into my room, and destroyed the magazine, then went back to her friend's house, and since she didn't have her car with her needed a ride home. I think she planned to be stuck on purpose so that she could call me and ask for a ride. She had to have known I was going to be upset when she called.

"Were you at my house today?" I asked. There was only silence, and more silence. "Are you at Angela's?" This was before mobile phones were affordable, we were both on landlines.

"Yes."

Steely, "I'll be there in a few minutes, I don't want to have to come in." I hung up the phone.

When I got there, she's standing outside, arms crossed like she's going to be giving me a cold shoulder. I pulled up, but instead of unlocking the door so she could get in, I got out and walked around the back of the car; I could see she's visibly nervous about what I'm doing. I opened the back passenger side door, and with quiet strictness, "get your ass in the back seat, get your clothes off, and don't speak unless you are spoken to."

After a long beat she complied, silently; she got in the back seat, I closed the door, walked back around, got in the driver's seat, and looked at her in the rear view mirror. Her mouth was slightly open as we made eye contact, not in a sexy Marilyn Monroe way, rather in a way that indicated she's making a decision. We held the eye contact for some seconds before she looked away and started to disrobe (I don't even remember what she was wearing, jeans I think). I drove away slowly. About the time I entered the 210 East she looked up at me through the mirror saying, "I'm naked."

"Start masturbating." I'm sure that's not what she expected, but she hesitantly complied.

Marsha didn't use her hands to masturbate, she would lie on her stomach and hump the bed, I'm not actually sure how it worked, but she could orgasm writhing like that. Prior to our relationship it was the only way she had ever come. It was usually very erotic to watch, but she was in the back seat of my Accord and I couldn't see her other than a few glances as I drove. Her head was behind my seat and her knees were near the passenger door, feet in the air. The only sound during the drive was the sound of her movement and breathing and the whimpers she let out now and then. My cock reacted to the sounds with a little blood flow twitch.

We got to the house, it's in a neighborhood that looks like it's in the country but it's really in an urban area; it had a long gravel driveway. I parked a ways from the house off to the side. It was twilight. I got out and opened the back door on the driver's side, I snatched her head up by her hair and she willingly popped up to her hands and knees, I slid under her so I'm sitting in the middle of the back seat and threw her over my lap. Holding her by her hair, I reddened her ass.

I spanked her ass until it was glowing, all while fingering her and scolding her, fingering her to multiple orgasms. "How [X] dare [X] you go [X] to my house [X] when [X] I'm [X] not there [X]! How [X] dare [X] you [X] dig [X] through [X] my things[X]! I [X] can't [X] even [X]... Spread your fucking legs [X]!" My fingers moved to her pussy, "I can't even believe you had the audacity to destroy my stuff!! That's right, hump my fingers!" And it continued, and she came and moaned and cried and confessed and moaned and came. My anger had ignited an erotic passion in me. My cock was raging at this point, pressing hard against my pants.

I pulled her up by her hair and positioned her so she was facing away from me between the front seats, I wriggled my pants off, my cock sprung up, and had her sit on my lap facing toward the front of the car. I fucked her with no pretense and continued to blister her ass. "Get your ass up, get over there, don't move [X]! Now sit your ass on my cock! Get that fucking pussy on my cock! [X] Get it in there! [X]! That's right [X] bounce [X] that [X] ass [X] off my cock!" I began making her pledge to act better.

"You're going to keep [X] your [X] hands [X] off my shit, right?"

"Yes, Master."

"You're going to stop [X] acting [X] out [X] like a petulant [X] child [X] right?!"

"Yes, Master."

"You're going to start [X] acting [X] like [X] a fucking [X] grown-up [X], right?!"

"Yes, Master."

"You're going [X] to watch [X] your goddam tone [X]! You're going [X] to cut [X] your fucking [X] 'tude [X]! Do [X] you [X] hear [X] me [X]?!"

"I'm sorry, Master."

"I've had enough [X]! I've had enough [X]!"

"Yes, Master. Yes! Yes, I hear you."

"What [X]?! What [X] are you going [X] to do [X]?!"

"I'm going to watch my tone, I'm going to watch my attitude, please, I promise I'll behave."

This went on for several minutes as I set her ass on fire and was immersed in this weird combination of anger and deep, rock-hard arousal. And she came and came; I don't know how many times she came before I released.

When it was over, after a long silence while she dismounted, she needed comfort and I gave it. I slid over so she could put her head in my lap; I stroked her hair in the quietness. Maybe I needed comfort too.

I eventually got out of the car; I remember the shock of the interior lights of the car interrupting darkness of the night as I transferred to the driver's seat. I waited for her to dress and let her get out and sit in the front passenger seat. We held hands as I drove up the driveway. We kissed tenderly before she got out. I watched her walk into the house. Maybe had this happened earlier in the relationship it would have taken a different path, maybe not. We were "lovier" the next morning when I picked her up for breakfast than we had been in months; by that evening we were fighting again.